Page 54 of Anxious Hearts

Finn was sweating from the exertion of remaining still.

His whole body was supercharged, every neuron screaming at him to get up out of bed and feed the beast. Instead, he continued to lay on his covers with his legs crossed at the ankles, shoulders propped up on a few pillows as he pretended to watch television.

He had his AirPods in, but they weren’t connected.

He needed to be able to hear Kelly’s breathing.

To his immense relief, she seemed to fall almost immediately asleep.

Finn recognised the drop into long, deep breaths with extended breaks in between that he had listened to on so many nights before this one.

When Kelly started twitching – a shudder of the shoulders, a jab of an arm, a jerk of a leg – he knew it was safe.

All the same, he slid excruciatingly slowly off the bed, tiptoeing on the carpet to make as little noise as possible.

He closed the bathroom door with the handle down and gently released the mechanism so it would slide noiselessly into its slot.

He risked the seemingly cacophonous snip of the bathroom lock and, when he didn’t hear movement on the other side of the door, knew he hadn’t woken her.

Finn flicked on the lights under the mirror, snatched the plastic bag from the waistband of his jeans, where it had remained since the exchange, and laid it out on the bathroom counter.

The marble was clean and smooth and perfect for cutting coke.

He didn’t have his regular mirror or straw, so improvised with a twenty dollar note.

His nose burned at the inhalation and he collapsed onto the toilet seat, breathing heavily as he waited for the drugs to enter his bloodstream.

It took less than a minute for the ecstasy to flow.

He almost laughed with blessed relief and had to clasp his hand over his mouth to stop himself.

He stood up, again strong and brave and assured.

He wanted to wake Kelly and tell her everything.

How much he missed her. How much he loved her.

How sorry he was for all that he had done.

Even in his super-charged state, though, he knew that was a bad idea.

The coke had dispelled his anxiety and he could finally think clearly enough to plan his day tomorrow.

He had loosely understood that he needed to return to Melbourne by late morning so that he could make the audition on time.

Then, as soon as it was over, he’d be on a plane back to Newcastle to meet Kelly at the hospital.

Her exams took the entire day and, though she had a break in the middle, she’d said she needed to stay in the zone so she couldn’t meet him for lunch.

Finn hadn’t told Kelly about his plans, of course. He couldn’t burden her with his concerns. And she’d probably tell him not to make all that effort on her part. Not to fly back to pick her up. But that simply wasn’t an option for Finn now. He was never letting her go again.

He scrolled effortlessly on his phone, booking plane tickets, filling out the forms, making the payments.

He had to remind himself to blink and, each time he did, his eyes stung like he’d opened them in the surf.

When he was done, Finn was still so buzzed that he knew sleep would be an impossibility, at least without help.

He opened the plastic bag and popped out two of the pills that rattled around loosely beside smaller sealed bags of white powder.

As he filled a glass with water and placed the benzos on his tongue, a voice deep inside his mind shouted that this was a dangerous practice, combining the two drugs, but he had no choice. He had to sleep, and he had to be rid of the crippling fear and paranoia. Only the drugs could help him now.

When Finn lay down to sleep, his mind was a maelstrom of euphoria and depression. Elation and despair. Heaven and Hell. His head was heavy, but his heart was light. For she was there, just across the room. They were together again.

The unbearable weight of joy and sorrow overwhelmed him.

Finn closed his concrete eyelids and fell into the abyss.